


Victorian Propriety

by BehindBrokenWindows



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson, Eyeliner, Fights, Flirting, Jealousy, M/M, Male Homosexuality, POV John Watson, Period-Typical Homophobia, Self-Doubt, Sexual Tension, Top John Watson, Uniform Kink, Watson fights for Holmes' honor, public flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BehindBrokenWindows/pseuds/BehindBrokenWindows
Summary: John Watson gets into a bar fight to defend his friend's honour, but finds out his arguments might not have been as strong as he thought they were.





	1. Confession

**Author's Note:**

> The rating is explicit because of later chapters!
> 
> There is now a russian translation by nightspell and Duncan Rossiter for this fic to be found [ here ](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5560670)! Thank you so much for this!

Holmes was, again, indulging in one of his chemical studies, as unaware of the outside world as he was aware of it when on a case.

At least, I reasoned, he wasn't yet _using_ to relieve himself of boredom, but if nothing came up soon, I would need to start worrying.

I tried to concentrate on the medical book in front of me, a rather interesting subject, too. But, alas, my mind was elsewhere.

I had been at the pub last night to have a beer with some old acquaintances, that, by happenstance, knew about my relation to Holmes, and had met the man himself. Naturally, the conversation turned to the man I shared the rent with, and hadn't ended until my eye was black and a man I barely knew by name was being carried to the closest hospital in a dreadful state.

I'm afraid me losing my temper didn't further help improve my case, as my protectiveness over Holmes became quite obvious. However, there were several old friends there, ready to vouch for me, and the subject was dropped. But for some reason it stayed with me, privately, and I wasn't quite so sure about my arguments as I had been minutes before.

Hence the feeling of an uncomfortable silence in the room, that I was sure Holmes was quite oblivious to. However, my curiosity was gnawing at me, and in the end I gave up on my book, having made my decision.

I stood, and approached the man, looking a bit hawklike as he was stooped over his current study.

"Holmes." He must have heard something in my voice that called for attention, because he immediately lifted his eyes and focused all of his great attention on me. He was assessing me quickly, in his usual manner, and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

"I see you are ready to explain to me the reasons behind last night's quarrel. Please be quick about it, Watson, I am terribly busy." His voice was sharp and impatient, but by the way he scrutinized my still quite bruised eye, I knew there was sympathy in him, that he was rather keen to know why, and more importantly _who_ had been the cause of it. His anger last night, upon seeing me, was enough for a shiver to run down my spine at the very memory of the ice in his gaze and the stiff, jerky way he had tended to the wound.

"I want you to be quite honest with me, Holmes," I urged, before I began. "Do not lie to me, do not try and worm yourself out of this, I beg of you." His interest was rising, and he nodded stiffly, still keeping his keen eyes focused solely on my face, reading every little change in my expression. If I hadn't been so used to it it would have been unnerving.

"Are you..." I shifted on my feet, nervous at the gravity of the situation. "Holmes, are you a homosexual?" I fixed my gaze on his and refused to look away. For once I had managed to bring an expression of surprise to his face. His mouth opened, but it seemed he was quite incapable of producing words.

"Of course not, Watson, where do you get the idea?" He played on humour, smiling and forcing something of a strained laughter past his lips.

"Honestly, Holmes. You promised. Are you... a homosexual?" I was completely serious, but dreading the answer.

"Oh, Watson," the man said with a heavy sigh. "You put me in a very difficult situation." He peered up at me innocently, pleading me to let the subject drop and think no more of it.

"So you are, then?" Homles' face set stubbornly and he pushed himself up from his chair, going to stride past me. Instead I grabbed him by the elbow and turned him towards me. Standing quite close, I fixed him with a stare.

"It doesn't matter to me, Holmes. It doesn't matter to me whose company you prefer," I hissed, making sure he understood me perfectly. "I do not believe it is a disease of the mind. We find the same phenomenon with animals and they do not have the _conscience réfléchi_. It is not a disease and you are not an abomination, it is a trick of nature, only, that cannot be avoided." Again, there was that surprised expression on my friend's face, and I found it quite entertaining. "Although I do not share your interests, I am accepting of you as a human being none the less. You are the best man I have ever met, Holmes, and nothing will change that."

Disbelief, now, and I basked in it. Never before had I evoked such confusion in my friend. It was quite refreshing.

"You can do whatever you want, Holmes. I ask only one thing of you, and that is to not bring any of your men home, at least when I am here. This is all that I ask." I let go of his elbow then, and studied his face as everything that I had said sank in.

"Of course, Watson, I would never - I have never..." He sighed, then, and there was an expression of such relief on his face as his lips curled into a smile. "Oh, Watson!" he said again, and embraced me right there in the living room, long arms slung around my neck. He buried his face in my hair and I was quite unsure of what to do with this surprising display of affection. Then the man started shaking with laughter and pulled back.

"I am sorry, I shouldn't have..." Holmes looked deliriously happy, seemingly unable to stop his smiling. "I don't think you can comprehend exactly how it is for a man like me in today's society, Watson. Always anxious that someone will find out, always hiding... Thank you, you have brought me a good measure of peace today."

Now that his uncomfortable secret was no longer a secret, Holmes was quite open about the subject, and the rest of the evening was spent listening to what the man had to say.

"I would go out late, you see," he explained, "tell you it was for a case, for example the last night before the resolution of The Crooked Man. In truth I had all the data I needed, but it was always such a good excuse to meet someone, in a way that wouldn't provoke your suspicion."

"You go out that often then?" I asked with a disbelieving smile. Having put Holmes down as quite uninterested in the less polite actions of society, it was surprising, to say the least, seeing his blatant excitement around the subject, and for a brief second I could see a man quite eager in the acts of lovemaking.

He shrugged inconsequentially and leaned back in his chair, regaining his usual, more refined composure. For the first time, I saw him as the relatively young man that he was, and not simply an analytical mind.

"When I get the chance," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

We went back to normal, but Holmes would no longer disguise his nightly visits, simply wink at me as he grabbed his coat, and sing a jolly "don't wait up" as he descended the stairs.


	2. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes is reckless and Watson is hurt.

It had been a while since Holmes had admitted to being a homosexual, and his sheer number of nightly visits took me by surprise, and later something like annoyance. Even though the number of nights we had together in our rooms before the fire hadn't decreased, now that I knew he was not out to gather information for cases, but rather committing sodomy with other young men around town, his absence became much more noticeable.

On these occasions I would sit with my books and try to stay awake until he returned, but even though I knew he never stayed away the entire night, I had never been awake long enough for him to return.

Instead of reading, I would wonder why it was that he so often preferred the company of these other men rather than in conversation with me. I began to think that I was, after all, only someone to help him afford the fine rooms in Baker Street, and not such a close friend as he often had me believe. Did he bring any of them with him on cases the times he didn't bring me? Was it perhaps just one man he went to see so frequently? The idea was infuriating.

It was all nonsense, of course, but it made my blood boil none the less.

Then finally, one night, Holmes was back before midnight, and stumbled gracelessly through the door. At first I thought he was intoxicated, then I spotted the split lip, the discolored skin, and blood on his crisp dress shirt.

"Heavens, Holmes!" I cried and immediately helped him into his chair. How he had managed to find his way home was beyond my comprehension, but I was infinitely relieved that he had. "Where are you hurt? You're bleeding, man! Wait - let me get my medical instruments!"

Putting my instruments down beside me, I placed myself on the floor in front of my friend, who looked half dazed, sprawled almost lewdly in the chair.

He grimaced as he shifted, and opened his eyes to look at me.

“Possibly broken ribs, the rest you can see for yourself I believe," he rasped out.

"What happened?" I asked as my fingers worked on his coat, waistcoat, and finally his dress shirt. I pushed the fabric out of the way and felt his ribs, grimacing as he hissed and moaned under my fingers.

"I was just walking down an alley, minding my own business. The stars are rather fine tonight, I was lost in thought. Then they attacked me, _thugs_ , just looking for trouble," he said through gritted teeth. He wasn't being truthful with me, I knew. His trousers weren't entirely closed, and the part that was closed was clearly done in a hurry, for it was done up wrong. But my friend didn't need scolding at his carelessness, he needed a doctor.

"No broken ribs, but quite some bruising, you'll feel it tomorrow. Your lip is cut, but the bleeding has stopped. I'm afraid the bruising around your eye and nose will be visible for some time." I sat back on my legs and looked him over closely, but there didn't seem to be any more...

"My dear chap! What did you do to your knuckles?!" I exclaimed and grabbed his left hand for further inspection.

I didn't realise that I was placed directly between his legs, and had put a hand on his upper thigh as I looked closer at the purple knuckles in front of me. So I took his groan - as I ran a thumb across his knuckles - as one of pain and not something else entirely.

"I couldn't simply let them beat me, could I? I am something of a boxer, you know that, Watson! But four of them was enough to land a couple of blows I'm afraid." He was breathing heavily and I felt him tense under me. His eyes were dark as he met mine, and I barely caught the small sound that escaped his lips, but this too I took for one of pain.

I got a bowl of water and started cleaning his various cuts and the grime on his face, then proceeded to put the cold cloth over his knuckles to ease the pain and hopefully dampen the swelling that would surely be present by morning.

"Why are you still awake?" Holmes wondered.

"I tend to forget the time when I'm reading," I lied dismissively, my mind yet again on the issues that had kept me awake tonight as well.

I was obviously not interesting enough for this man, and now that he had started lying about his nightly activities too...

That you had been pleased against the wall in a dark alley was not usually something you would write home about, but I had thought I made it quite clear that he was safe with me. He didn't seem to trust me.

I was unable to hide my anger as I stood and gathered my things, as well as the waistcoat I had disposed of.

"Goodnight, Holmes," I said rather coldly, and his hurt expression didn't escape me. I returned to my room in a sour mood, still not understanding why I was in such low spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a bit short, but the next will be up tomorrow!


	3. Flustered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes is in a bad mood.

He wasn't complaining, so much as glaring around the room and scaring away any who attempted to engage us in conversation with the help of clipped comments about their personal life that usually sent them reeling in the other direction.

"Holmes!" I said the fifth time this happened. "Where are your manners?"

"I left them at home, together with my good humour and underpants."

"What is this?" I sneered, scandalized that he would say such a thing.

" _This_ , is a social gathering that I had no intention of attending!" he said, just as angrily, avoiding my actual question.

"As courtesy to your client -"

"Yes, I have already heard it!" He lifted his drink to his lips and my eyes were drawn to his knuckles again. They were still horribly discoloured from a few days ago, but he had managed to cover, and quite successfully at that, most of the bruising around his eyes and nose with cosmetics. He hadn’t stopped there, however. It was painfully obvious, to me at least, that he had darkened his eyelashes and gone so far as the draw a discreet black line around his eyes as well. The black enhanced his arresting eyes in such a fashion that they seemed bigger, yet no less intelligent, and it drew the attention of everyone who looked at. I must admit that I too found it hard to look away. It made him look darker in the way it complemented his hair; instead of making him look womanly, there was a certain roughness to him, despite the delicate features of his face.

We didn't normally attend social gatherings, but this had been a request by an important client, and I had, for once, stood quite firm until Holmes had relented.

"Right, well then -" I looked around the enormous room and my eyes landed on one of the young ladies dancing on the floor. "Tell me about her," I said and nodded towards her.

"What?"

"Deduce her for me." Holmes huffed in indignation, but it was only a moment before he told me everything he could see about the woman’s life. This went on for a while, and it was obvious the fine society of London was lucky that Holmes was not one of its members, and had no intention of spilling to anyone but me the scandals he read on them. My good plan of distracting my friend until we could leave without being rude backfired when I asked about a fine gentleman standing opposite us, leaning against the wall, alone. He was tall and finely built with clothing that stood to the occasion and an immaculate short beard over strong jaws. He was a fine specimen indeed. Holmes smirked.

"He,” he said with a dramatic pause, “is a homosexual." My jaw dropped in disbelief and my good humour went with it.

"Are you..." I grimaced at the very thought. "Are you going to talk to him?" I asked despite myself.

"No!" Holmes replied indignantly and fixed me with a glare. Then his eyes softened. "He is not really my type." He put his hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him, searching for something in his eyes, the very eyes that I found so distracting tonight.

"That man? He is quite handsome, it seems - several women have tried to engage in conversation with him only in the last minutes,” I said before I forgot the subject at hand.

"I'm afraid he is too feminine for my tastes."

" _Feminine_?" I exclaimed. To me he looked anything but exactly that.

"Look at the movements of his wrists," Holmes said and leaned towards me so no one else would hear. The man in question was now having a discussion with someone, arms waving in the air. "Then there's his stance, distinctly feminine, timid even." Looking closer, I saw that he was quite right.

"What is it you enjoy then?" I asked before I could think. Holmes stiffened beside me and his hand on my shoulder withdrew.

"... capable, a bit rough around the edges, but… nice." He cleared his throat and looked away.

“Rough?” I demanded in a breathy voice. “Someone who could handle you and take control of the situation?” In a way it made sense, but I laughed good humouredly at the realisation. To my surprise, my throat was oddly dry. I emptied my glass and put it on the table behind me.

"We all have our preferences. It isn't my fault if I like men in uniforms." His voice was barely audible at the end, and I felt I wasn't supposed to have heard. Suddenly the room was too hot. I had stepped closer to him again, not quite sure for what reason. I scanned the room, though everyone seemed to be pointedly ignoring us and with good reason. The rumour about Holmes’ manners had probably spread.

" _What are you doing_?" Holmes suddenly sneered at me.

"What?"

"Are you deliberately testing me? People will see, Watson!"

"Holmes, what are you on about?" My right hand went up to brush -

"There are two possibilities if you keep this up, Watson. Either we end in goal, the both of us, or you find yourself being handled in a way you never thought you would be by a man!" My mouth opened, but no words came out as my eyes fixed on his lips. He groaned. "Oh, for goodness sake, man! Get your hands off me, or are you delighting in teasing me? Do you enjoy seeing me so flustered in a room full of aristocrats? Are you stringing me along for fun?!"

" _Oh_." Suddenly I noticed how my left hand was placed on Holmes' lower back, under his tailcoat that he had opened some time ago, tracing delicate patterns. We were standing close enough for our breaths to mingle and our thighs were pressed firmly together. My other hand was playing with the cravat at his neck. 

I drew away in shocked realisation and Holmes slumped against the wall at his back, leaning his head against it.

"Are you deliberately trying to end me?" he breathed with his eyes closed. "Do you enjoy making me shiver? Do you like to see how much you affect me, when it clearly doesn't affect you?" he growled. Colour was high in his cheeks and his chest was moving rapidly.

"I don't understand what you're saying, Holmes!" The man huffed.

"You're not that much of an imbecile, Watson! You must surely have noticed what you do to me, and I declare it is not fair! Nay, more than that, it is not right!"

"Holmes, explain yourself!"

"Exploiting the fact that I want you, Watson! I beg of you - please stop! You cannot understand how it is to always be around your teasing and knowing that you mean nothing! I ask for mercy, Watson! Stop playing with me, I beg of you."

"Shh!" I urged and looked around again, but no-one was close enough to have heard his outburst.

Holmes grabbed me by the elbow with determination and escorted me out rather roughly. We picked up our coats and entered the cold London night shortly thereafter. There was a cab in the street, and we climbed in.

The ride to Baker Street was decidedly the most tense and uncomfortable situation I had ever been in together with Holmes. The silence lay heavy between us and it was painfully clear that Holmes would explain nothing, would not even glance in my direction, before we entered our rooms, and maybe not ever then.

When we were finally home, Holmes bounced up the stairs like he usually did after a full day of trying, but failing to gather information for one of his cases. I followed quickly at his heels lest he slip away into his private rooms. 

"Now explain to me, Holmes, what it is you're going on about!" I said and grabbed him by the clothing to turn him towards me.

"As if you don't know!” growled he in my face, and he reminded me a moment of a trapped animal. “Why do you think I have been away so much? Did you expect me to endure all your flirting while knowing it would turn to nothing? You are driving me out of my mind, man! Do you have to string me along, now that you _know_ what it does to me?"

"My flirting?" I exclaimed and let go of his clothing at the accusation.

"Yes, your flirting! Your lingering touches and heavy-lidded staring! Your smiles that makes my rational mind flee before my very eyes! When it was clear you would do nothing, I tried to make you jealous! Imagine! Going out almost every night, as if any man needs that!" He huffed. "And still you just sit there, tend to my wounds, hold my hand and show me all that this _could have_ been! Do you know how I ache, Watson? Do you?" I had never seen him so wild, his eyes were manic as they stared down at me and he almost heaved for breath.

“You… tried my make me jealous?” I asked then. I couldn’t explain the warm feeling that bloomed within me, nor the smile that teased at the corners of my mouth. Holmes simply groaned at me. “Are you suggesting that it is _me_ that you want, Holmes?”

"Oh, don't make me say it! You know I do! As if any other man has mattered..." The man slumped down before my eyes as if beaten. A pained expression flitted across his face as he looked at me. “I’m sorry, Watson, I shouldn’t have – I’ll tell Mrs Hudson you will be leaving in the morning, it is much too late tonight.” He avoided my eyes as he turned his back on me and retreated into his room. I watched him go with confusion and a turmoil of other, unexplainable feelings brewing inside me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah Watson...
> 
> Next chapter is final! I hope you have enjoyed this little piece this far and that the end will not disappoint!


	4. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes refuses an opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever, but I have been in Bretagne this week-end and had no possibility to write, and there wasn't any internet anyway!
> 
> So I give you this little gift, because I'm not yet finished with the full chapter (school has started again, and suddenly my time to write is very limited!). But I will try to write the end within two days, and of course I'll update it as soon as it's done, please accept this chapter as an apology!

It seemed to me that whatever action was taken by me in this instant would be important in such a way that they would change everything. It was an enormous responsibility, and I will not deny that my heart was filled with doubt, despite the knowledge that I had no real choice in the matter. Whatever I told myself, there was only one thing I could do, and only one possible outcome.

I strode down the hall on light feet and grabbed Holmes' door handle, but hesitated. Once I turned that handle there would be allowed no hesitation, this could not be done halfway. However, I was not the kind of man to do things halfway.

I twisted the handle and pushed the door open with measured movements then stepped inside. Holmes was sitting on the edge of his bed looking distraught in a way I had never seen on him before. He looked up as he heard me enter and there was a certain openness to his features that told me he no longer cared for guarding his expressions and what they might suggest to me.

"I am sorry, Watson -" I silenced him by raising my hand towards him, making it clear that I did not want to hear him.

"I've ways found you a most peculiar man, Holmes. Indeed, when we first moved in here I did not know what to make of you and your habits. Later, of course, as I have come to know you intimately, I have learnt to deduce which mood I will find you in with astonishing accuracy - whether it be sullen, bursting with such joy one rarely sees in anyone but a child, or buried deep inside that great mind that I admire so much. And still I must insist that you are a very silly man and can be as blind as any. However, I have never known you to be stupid, and I have never known you to be wrong without great reason. I do not believe you could have told me what you did, did you not have reason to believe that I might reciprocate."

“You forced it out of me, Watson!” Holmes sprang up with feeling and paced on the floor in front of me. “What is it you want me to say, exactly? That I, for months, have wanted you in a way I know that I should not, and that when you told me you did not think badly of me for my preferences, the hope – that I had so easily squashed before – sprung to life with the force of a champion until my judgement was so clouded that I – _me_! – misread all your actions? Rationally I knew, of course, that you could not feel what I did, but then you would look at me across from the room and reason held not a candle to the feeling that spread in my chest! I really must ask you to go, Watson, I could not live with you so close. I am sorry, but this is out of my power. It might be best that we not say goodbye in the morning, it will be easier I believe.” His eyes on me were resolute, hard, almost detached, but it did not escape me that his fingers curled and uncurled nervously at his sides.

“Do you honestly believe that I did not get jealous?” For the first time I could see his face when the hope he had talked about sprang up in his chest, and it lit up his face for a second, shone through his eyes as brightly as when he was certain he would bring down some great criminal. But I could also see the effort it took him, the battle that was inside him, as he quelled said hope. His face was left expressionless, like a mask that I did not care for. “Any man would have been, Holmes. Do you know what I did, every time that you left? I tried to read, and when I had read a page and remembered nothing of it I tried to tell myself that it was your conversation I missed. But the thought that some other – that you might lie in the arms of –” here I stopped and took a breath in the hope of collecting myself, but the fire did not die. “That you would prefer the company of someone else, that you might share your thoughts with someone else, let someone touch you and see you in a way I had never –. It was torture, Holmes. But I could not explain the anger, so directed at a man that I did not know, someone I had fashioned for you in my mind.”

“I must stop you, Watson. You have always been a romantic, I have scorned you for it many times before, but never did I think it would be misinterpreted like this, not by you in any case. You do not feel for me, Watson. You find this intriguing, there’s mystery to it and you are so drawn to mystery, but Watson, once it is discovered there will be nothing left to hold your interest. You confuse your feeling of friendship to me with something else entirely. I wouldn’t want to wake in the morning and watch you realise that what I say is true.”

“Do not tell me what I feel and do not feel for you, Holmes, it does not befit you to be so wrong.” In two steps I was in front of the so pained detective and had him by his lapels. I still possessed some of the strength I had gained during my time in the army and Holmes, though tall, was so slender it was no trouble pressing him against the wall of his bedroom. His breath left him as he hit the wall, but I did not let him regain his composure before I kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I feel bad for teasing you...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed anyway, and that the last chapter will not disappoint, even though I find it surprisingly hard to write!


	5. Impropriety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watson, as it is, is a very stubborn man once he sets his mind to something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took me so long, but here it is! I hope you enjoy!

I was reeling with the shock from the revelation of my own desires as I felt for the first time his soft petal lips against mine. For a moment my head was spinning and I could only direct my focus on where we touched, but my lungs would not cooperate. My eyes sprung open as I pulled away and drew a shuddering breath.

"What are you doing?" Holmes choked on his intake of breath. "Watson, you simply cannot do this to me! Not if you can't go through -"

"Do you never stay silent?" I growled, then claimed his lips again and he opened against me, more in confusion that of free will. The bittersweet tang of his pipe was on his tongue as I swiped it with mine, and I could picture him so clearly in his chair, putting the mouthpiece between his delicate lips and drawing the smoke into his lungs. A gesture that I had found so inexplicably maddening.

"My dear Watson," Holmes murmured, and took my face between his strong hands, bruised and criss-crossed with scars, stained with chemicals. "I do not think you know what you are doing, but God help me, I can't seem to stop you." In this moment, he was not the man who had fled our rooms for cheap things in dark alleyways. With me, he was vulnerable, purely himself and without the effect of pretence. He was giving himself to me, trusting me with his heart and his soul. It was a responsibility I took with utmost care.

 

The sight of him like this was one I had never dared hope for, it was so unlike his normally cold person for when he looked down at me, he did not scrutinize, he did not try to deduce, he simply looked.

I let myself be distracted by him, by the black around his eyes that redefined the word captivating. I watched as my world fell apart around me and built itself again, newer this time, stronger, more beautiful. A world where Holmes' part was much more significant than before.

"You look shamefully cheap with that black around your eyes, Holmes," I whispered. "Be sure not to wear it should you go out, I would have no option but to come with you and stay guard." It was true to the last word. Holmes looked like the very embodiment of sin in every sense of the word, as if Lucifer had sent him to earth to seduce men to the wrong path and join his ranks in hell. A smirk played over his pink lips and his eyes glinted dangerously. "But you like that, don't you? You like that men look twice at you, that even the most traditional find themselves captivated by your beauty, so clearly a queer, yet in such a delicate way." I leaned against him and breathed at the skin of his delicate neck, watching as the hairs there rose. "You'd like to turn them, make them take you," I growled against him, nibbling at his skin. "Like this?" I grabbed the hair at the back of his head and fully exposed his neck to me.

"Oh God," he breathed as I bit down on his neck, then licked the sting away. "Yes!" he exclaimed as I brought a knee between his thigs and nudged them apart so I could place myself directly between them until we were completely pressed together against the wall. He brought his hands up and lifted my face so he could kiss me again, leaving me to pull impatiently at his dress shirt before ever removing his coat and waistcoat. Holmes sighed against me as I finally reached skin and felt him, catalogued the way he moved and pinched his sides to make his muscles constrict beneath my fingers.

He squealed and wiggled against me as I played with him, let go of his mouth only to pull his lower lip into my mouth and bite it. The shock of it made him pull away with a jerk and he banged his head against the wall but he only laughed, before taking my lips hungrily again, refusing to let me go if only for a moment, as if he believed that when we stopped this, it would stop forever.

And, I mused, he might believe that it would. Or maybe it was the addict in him, maybe - once he dipped his toe in the water he couldn't help from diving in with all that he had in a spectacular, self-sacrificing gesture, motivated by deprivation.

"I think," Holmes whispered, then claimed my lips again.

"You think entirely too much." That earned me a playful smack over the head, but he was not discouraged.

"I think, that if it is all the same to you – it's getting a bit warm, you see – we could shrug our coats off, and be all the more comfortable for it." I laughed as he unbuttoned my coat and pushed it past my shoulders with shaking fingers.

"I suspect that you have most improper ulterior motives, Holmes."

"If I have deduced correctly, and I am most certain that I have – balance of probability, you see – once I remove enough of your clothing there will be warm skin underneath. Though I would prefer to support my thesis by a detailed study. If the subject would be so kind as to – yes quite, thank you." My waistcoat joined my coat on the floor.

"This seems unfair to me," I commented. It only took me seconds to relieve him of his clothing, though the shirt ripped as I pulled it over his head.

"It was quite old anyway," Holmes said, and lounged at me until I stumbled backwards several steps. It took little effort to swing us around and push Holmes onto the bed behind him, only to crawl into his lap and snog him thoroughly into the mattress. He was rocking his hips against me, his bare chest was pressed against mine separated only by the thin material of my shirt. His skin was soft and practically hairless beneath my fingers as I took my liberties and felt every part of him that I could reach with an eagerness I hadn't known for a very long time.

In his usual dress-up, Holmes looked most slender, and even though he had many times confessed to being an unusually strong man, I had never quite pictured the natural consequences of this strength. In this moment said consequences were rippling beneath me, pressing against me, guiding me where he wanted me. I couldn't refrain from letting go of his lips and nudge his head to the side, nibble down his neck until I reached his prominent collarbone. My hands came up to join my mouth, exploring the hard expanse that was his chest, lifting and sinking with every breath, throbbing with life. My left hand found a nipple and my mouth found another and Sherlock Holmes moaned beneath me. He arched his back and rolled his hips against me in a most obscene fashion. His hands went to the front of my trousers, but I grabbed his wrists immediately, and held them above his head. It drew a barely audible whimper out of him.

"You are teasing, Watson!" he said accusingly, and strained against my hands. However, he relented immediately as I claimed his lips and pushed my tongue into his mouth, playing for dominance, taking it from him.

He was arching into me, answering my every demand just as he begged to be held, to be taken care of in every sense of the word - not with words but with glances, with the twitching of his fingers where they clasped around mine and the small, frantic movements of his hips.

"Must I tie you up to keep your hands off me?" I whispered in his ear. He looked at me with wide eyes that opted for innocent but landed on lustful. He shook his head. "In that case, lay quite still until I tell you to move." The look on his face as I removed my shirt, sitting on his crotch as I was, will never fade in my memory. Never had I seen anything so purely animalistic as what I saw in his eyes. Never had I expected such a reaction from such a cold, detached man as he was.

"You're practically edible, Watson," he whispered, colour high in his cheeks, accentuating the shadows around his eyes. His hands moved and then he was holding my hips, pressing me against him, letting his hands roam freely across my exposed upper body. I leaned into the soft touches, wanting nothing more than to give myself to him, tell him to do with me whatever he wanted but –

With much shuffling and grumbling about shoes in the bed, Holmes was down properly like one should. I brought his hands up, and before he could see my intentions, I grabbed the handcuffs on the table beside us and clamped them over his wrists with some difficulty. He was too surprised to resist, and was immediately immobilised with his hands propped against the headboard of his bed.

"You disobeyed a direct order. Do you know what we do when someone disobeys in the army, Holmes?" He was breathing heavily, and for a moment he looked almost scared. I leaned towards him until my mouth was caressing his ear. "Maybe I'll show you sometime," I whispered, and felt a shudder go through him. I kissed my way down his able body until I reached the waistband of his trousers and hovered there, feeling the beating of my heart in my lips, swelled from kissing. I paid attention to the skin there, brushing over it with feather-light touches, feeling him tremble beneath me. I kissed the ridges of his muscles, licked the sweat that had formed between his abdominal muscles and desire rose in me.

"Watson, if you would be so kind as to hurry –" I lifted my head and looked up at him with an intense expression. It was enough to make him clamp his mouth closed. I indulged him, however, by starting to unbutton his trousers, keeping my touches light, moving slowly to feel my heartbeat quicken, to watch his body respond to me.

When at last I folded the front of his trousers back, all reason and all air escaped me in one joint effort. What he had told me earlier that evening came back to me.

"You weren't playing," I breathed. The very thought of Holmes earlier, being introduced to Ladies and Gentlemen of London's finest society, wearing nothing under his trousers so that anyone could, if they simply opened... it made my cheeks heat unexpectedly and the condescending smile on Holmes' face, knowing full well what I was thinking, was not helping the matter.

I managed to hold his gaze for only a moment, before my eyes dropped to the full length of him. He was only a breath away from my mouth, and I watched how his member twitched as I blew a hot breath against it. Tentatively, I encircled the base with my hand and drew his skin down, then licked at the spot just below the head.

"Oh!" Holmes exclaimed, and his hips twitched under my fingers. "Watson, if necessary, I will of course tell you how to –" I pulled him into my mouth and sucked him down, drawing a long, shuddering moan out of him. Feeling his heavy heat between my lips was unexpectedly arousing, so much in fact that my hips were twitching against the mattress, seeking relief but finding none. For moments, I tortured myself like this, moaning around him, drawing shaky breaths of pleasure from him as he moved and writhed beneath me, but it was not enough.

In a move of desperation, I let him slip out of my mouth and aligned myself with him, pressing my hips against his and grinding our erections together. I moaned against his lips then, as I went to kiss him, feeling almost more acutely now that I had some semblance of friction how much my erection had been aching with need.

I braced myself on my hands so I could look at him, and rolled my hips against his more urgently this time, building a steady rhythm, but the friction wasn’t enough, only maddening.

“I do not think you realise exactly how handsome you are, Watson,” Holmes said between pants. “And I confess that if you do not let me touch you soon, I might implode!” His needy expression made me chuckle and kiss his temple fondly.

“Does it hurt?” I asked and brought a hand up to feel his wrists.

“No, I do not need to put pressure on them, though you should have asked that long ago!” he said accusingly.

“In that case, I’ll let them be on for a while longer.”

" _Watson_!” he whined, and a smile fluttered over my features at this new, desperate way he called my name.

“All in good time, love,” I whispered. I removed myself from him and slid down the bed to relieve him of his pants and shoes and got a contented sigh from him in return.

“If you are quite done taking your time, I would be most –” I put two fingers in his mouth and it seemed he forgot all about what he was saying, maybe even that he had been talking at all. He sucked my fingers down and coated them with saliva and it was so easy to imagine the feeling on another part of me. I gasped in pleasure.

I crawled into the bed again, still mostly clothes as I was, and withdrew my fingers so I could nudge his thighs apart and situate myself comfortably between them. When I ran my hands over them they were trembling lightly.

I let one of my hands travel along his inner thigh, past his bollocks to his puckered hole. I teased the entrance without thinking too much on exactly it was that I was doing, and felt him shift impatiently. With my other hand, I grabbed the base of his erection and put the head in my mouth just as I pushed my finger past his entrance. I looked up and saw that his mouth was half open, producing such filthy moans and blasphemy as I had ever heard.

“There is nothing... nothing quite like you moaning God's name with my finger up your arse, Holmes, truly nothing.” I drilled my finger in harder and sucked his penis back down my throat until I felt him pulsing in my mouth.

“Another, oh God, please another one, _John_!” His gravelly voice broke around my name and sent thrills down my spine. The simple fact that he lacked the presence of mind to call me Watson was enough for me to oblige him and push in another finger. He groaned above me, and I paused with caution, but he started shoving against my hand with his body to take me deeper, so I screwed the fingers inside him again and again until he was panting uncontrollably, nonsense spilling from his mouth.

“I must admit never thought I’d hear such things from you, Holmes. I think you might be losing your grip.”

“John! Dear Lord, man I can’t wait any longer! Do you take pleasure in torturing me so? I am not a maiden, so if you would please be so kind as to have your way with me _right this moment_ , I would be very thankful!” I let go of him altogether then, and he arched from the bed, trying to get us together again.

Standing, I slipped out of the rest of my clothing then straddled Holmes’ broad chest.

“Open your mouth.” My voice was traitorously breathy, but he did as he was told and I slid forwards until I could slide my erection past his parted lips. Immediately he sucked around me, pulled me further down until I was almost choking him. The feeling was extraordinary, and I couldn’t help but rock into him with small, frantic movements.

He swirled his tongue around me, but then started pushing against the head, to push me out.

“Untie me!” he gasped, and took me down again. Frantically I leaned to the side of the bed and retrieved the key, then released his hands with shaky fingers. Immediately his hands were on my arse and he guided me into him, setting the rhythm so he could swallow me down to his own satisfaction while grabbing my arse as hard it might bruise.

“You are so gorgeous like this,” I whispered, looking down at his face, eyes closed, brows pulled together in concentration. When he looked up at me his eyes were black with lust and all breath left me. “At least,” – I breathed – “If we go to hell, we go together.”

Pleasure curled in my centre as he held my gaze with those incredibly intelligent eyes that showed nothing but emotion in this moment.

His strong hands guided me, and I steadied myself against the wall, rutting into his mouth until drool ran down his chin, but he took it so happily. Even though tears were running from his eyes he did not try and push me away, but moaned around me instead until I had to pull away before I could reach my climax. I didn’t want it to end just yet.

A string of pre-ejaculation was running from the tip of my erection to his lips, and he licked it off with a hum of satisfaction. The sight was so decidedly filthy that for a moment I could picture him a Margery, working the streets. What fortune he would have made.

One of his hands left me and his eyes slipped shut as he grabbed his aching member.

“Watson, by all that is Holy, if you do not soon give me what I so desperately need…” he trailed off and I kissed him, then slid down between his legs again to hook them around my waist.

“Oil,” I panted. He scrambled for the bedside table and yanked open a drawer, producing a bottle. My patience had run dry. I slicked my hand up, spilling more on the sheets that I did myself, and started to prepare him with more force than I normally would, but he only grunted and started responding to my fingers. It went quickly as I had already opened him earlier, and all that was left for me was to slick up my aching member, and place it at his entrance. His body tightened like a bowstring, but the moment I breached that ring of muscle, he relaxed into me.

The wet head and snug fit was overwhelming. My head dropped against me chest and achingly slowly, I pushed inside him. Not a sound came from him, not even when I was seated fully. When I managed to look up, there was an expression of such utter pleasure on his face that I almost ruined everything by finishing early. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was open with silent exclamations of pleasure that was just too good to be heard.

I pulled out, and pushed back in, feeling him tighten around me, suck me deeper just as his hands fumbled around and finally landed on my hips with in a loose, absent-minded grip.

Desire churned inside me and I could barely stave off, but I moved faster, harder into him as his eyes fluttered open to take me in.

He moaned then, looking at me. His trembling legs tightened around my hips and he ground himself against me as if he couldn’t get enough. I answered his plea, drilled into him until I was pressing him relentlessly down into the mattress, then I claimed his lips again and a new spark of pleasure rolled through me, left me heaving for breath, and then suddenly I tipped over the edge, white heat flowing through me, filling me. His name danced over my lips as I moaned through my orgasm, seeing stars. I grabbed his member between our bodies just as I rutted against him to make my pleasure last as long as possible, and then he too was falling, spilling over my hand with a shout as he arched mindlessly into me.

I flopped down against him, uncaring of the mess on his belly, unable to hold myself up. We were breathing against each other, panting, not quite present in our own minds yet. Still afloat.

“My dear Watson,” Holmes murmured against my neck, his hoarse voice barely audible. I hummed in agreement to the praise he hadn’t been able to form into words. “I will feel that for days. I fear I will need to lock myself in here lest someone should come and ask for my services. Could you tell them I’ve caught a sickness? I can’t possibly sit in a carriage for a week at least.” I chuckled and nudged him with my nose.

“If that is your wish, I have not the power to deny you. However, I do suspect that this will become a most frequent endeavour, and you should accustom yourself to it.”

“I would hope so,” replied he and kissed me fully, still with his eyes closed. “If I knew it would feel like this, I would have seduced you long ago.”

"It was incredibly idiotic of us to wait this long, was it not?"

"Idiotic of _you_. It was entirely your stubbornness, Watson, I take none of the blame."

"Of course you don't, you egocentric invert." Holmes tried to look offended, but the haze of orgasm was still present on his face as he scrunched his nose up.

“Very rich, Watson, coming from you.” He brushed our noses together and finally opened his eyes to look at me. “Oh, good. I thought it might all have been my overactive imagination, but here you are. How quaint.” He hesitated for a moment. “Will you stay with me, Watson? Through the night?”

“Certainly. You have not the power to remove me even if you wanted to, I believe. But let us clean ourselves first.” Holmes left that particular task to me, but I did it without much grumbling, and were soon back beside him, guiding his head to my chest.

“I have thought, for a while, that I might retire, in some years.”

“Retire? What would you do?” I knew very well that all his energy would never allow him to do nothing, like so many did once they grew old.

“Get out of London, find a small place on the countryside. I think I’d like to keep bees. What do you think of bees, Watson, would it be too bothersome for you?” I chuckled and put my arm around his shoulders.

“Not at all, Holmes. Not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I hope that went well! What do you think?
> 
> Writing this from Watson's perspective was very tricky and I'm not sure all of it was as 'right' as I wanted it to be, but I did my best and here it is :)
> 
> Thank you all for reading and leaving such nice comments, it is really very encouraging!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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